


Subordinate

by chezamanda



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Class Differences, Cold War, Community: kink_bingo, F/M, Military Fetish, Military Ranks, Military Uniforms, Restraints, Soldiers, Soviet Union
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-19
Updated: 2012-10-19
Packaged: 2017-11-16 15:32:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/541030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chezamanda/pseuds/chezamanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on an undercover mission in the Soviet Union, Military Intelligence Corp soldier Clint Barton is taken prisoner by the KGB. Despite their best efforts, he refuses to give up any information... that is, until they bring in Captain Romanova.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Subordinate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreadthenight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadthenight/gifts).



> Written for Kink Bingo [Uniforms/Military Kink + Class Fantasies]. Thanks to Eiluned for all the hand holding and beta work. Not my characters, just borrowing them and making them do unspeakable things to each other.

After two days of interrogation, beatings, and being cooped up in what was generously called a cell, Clint found himself strapped into something that strongly resembled a dentist’s chair. Before they brought him here, they had hosed him down and put him in a new, clean uniform. He really had no idea what was going on anymore. His wrists and ankles were bound with thick leather straps that just barely allowed blood to continue to flow to his hands and feet. 

“Wait here,” the guards had told him as if he had any other option.

A solitary uncovered bulb hanging from the ceiling burned into his eyes. The splitting headache he had courtesy of a rifle butt to the base of his skull grew even more excruciating under the harsh light.

After an hour, maybe longer, the door’s metal hinges groaned as it opened behind him. What sounded like the sharp click of high heels followed - _high heels?_ Much to Clint’s surprise, he looked up to see a beautiful woman in a fitted officer’s uniform walking around the chair. None of the intelligence the Americans had gathered on the Russians gave any indication that women were able to rise above the ranks of agents or snipers for the KGB. The insignias pinned and sewn into the woman’s uniform denoted her rank - captain. She looked far too young to be so decorated and highly ranked, so he had to assume she had proven herself exceptional to those above her in the organization. Regardless of the fact that she undoubtedly sent to torture - and most likely, kill - him, Clint was impressed. 

Setting a rich black leather case on the table across from his seat, the captain sized him up with a sidelong look. She unpacked a series of gleaming metal instruments in a neat line. Clint looked away with a quiet sigh of dejection. Another round of poking and prodding and god knows what else was in store. However, he found himself staring at the female captain and how her uniform hugged every curve. The skirt rounded over her backside and the strong muscles in her thighs, ending just at the knee where he could see expensive-looking stockings. Straight black lines marked the backs of her legs and disappeared into her brown leather heels. 

Clint studied her profile. With her soft features and full lips she could have passed for an actress or a model on the cover of a fashion magazine. Her flaming red hair was tucked up beneath her officer’s cap, and Clint wondered just how long it was when she let it down. 

“I didn’t think women made it to officer class,” Clint said in Russian.

The captain turned toward him, her neutral expression unchanged. “They made an exception for me,” she replied in flawless English.

“Was my Russian accent that bad?”

An eyebrow curved up toward her hairline, but she did not laugh. She walked over, inspecting him closely as if was trying to determine which part of body would be the most receptive to pain. For such a petite and beautiful woman, she made quite the intimidating figure. He could smell the rich, sweet musk of her perfume as she looked him over. Clint was having a hard time maintaining his calm beneath the intense gaze of this woman. It wasn’t just her beauty, but the way she carried herself and the fact that she was the only female captain he had ever encountered in his military career that had him so enthralled.

“I must say, you made it quite far without detection. Most American soldiers aren’t so fortunate,” she said, the husky quality of her voice doing little to keep him from squirming.

“Thanks, I try,” Clint replied, his joking tone falling a little flatter than he intended. “So are you going to use all those shiny instruments on me now?”

“Not unless you cooperate.”

“Well you’ve seen how well that’s worked with your pals.”

The officer’s lip turned up ever so slightly. “I use a slightly...different approach than they do.”

Without breaking his gaze, she ran her polished red fingernails over the gleaming brass buttons on her coat and slipped each one loose. As she slipped the coat off, the medals glinted in the overhead light. Beneath the jacket was a dress that shared the same color and shiny buttons, but appeared to be made of a finer material that accentuated the curvature of her frame. Clint wondered how she could fit anything beneath it. He swallowed hard. She lifted the cap from her head and let her coppery hair swirl down over her shoulders in long ringlets. 

The captain walked over to him with a slow, purposeful gait. She stopped mere inches from his chair, her stillness and the weight of her gaze unsettled him. 

“No need to be nervous, soldier,” she said, voice warm despite her demeanor.

“Easy to say when you aren’t strapped to a chair, honey,” he quipped, attempting to break up some of the tension. 

That warmth disappeared in a split second. She got right up in his face, terrifying and yet still stunning. “I am not your ‘honey,’ soldier. I am a captain and you will address me as such. Understood?” 

“Yes,” Clint replied, feeling his cock twitch at her sharp tone. “Yes, captain.”

The thought of this powerful woman - this captain - dominating him and making him obey was overwhelming. She was the one in control here. One perfectly shaped eyebrow arched as looked down and noted the reaction that she had provoked. Clint breathed deeply and attempted to will his erection away, but then her hand was sliding up over his thigh. Her eyes locked with his, almost challenging him. His heart pounded in his chest so loudly that he was certain she could hear it. 

“I can see that you know how to follow orders,” she said as her fingers inched dangerously close to his cock. “If you do exactly what I say and answer my questions, you will be rewarded. Is that understood, soldier?”

“Yes, captain,” he replied breathlessly, licking his suddenly dry lips.

“Good,” she said. Clint groaned as she palmed him through the material. Her full red lips turned up in a grin as he hardened beneath her touch. “Very good.”

The captain’s soft hand crept into his pants, past his underwear until she found skin. Clint hissed as if he had been branded by her touch, arms straining against their bonds. Loyalty and patriotism be damned. For each question that he answered, she stroked a little firmer until her hand was moving steadily up and down. His chest rose and fell in time with each movement and his eyes threatened to roll back in his head because he had never felt anything quite like this. 

“Do you like my uniform, soldier?” she asked. “You’ve been staring at it. Do you like how my body looks in this uniform?”

“Y-yes,” Clint replied, just barely holding onto his resolve, “Yes, captain.”

Much to his extreme disappointment, she withdrew her hand. In any other situation, he would have cried out and demanded to know why she had stopped, but he could only try to catch his breath and play along. She carefully undid the leather strap from his left wrist and raised it to the top button on her dress uniform. The brass button was a sharp contrast to his heated skin - smooth and cool, much like her hand had been. He stared up at her, confused and still painfully aroused.

“Unfasten these buttons, soldier.”

Clint did exactly what the captain had commanded. Though it was difficult to maneuver with only one hand, he was able to slip each button through their holes. Bit by bit, her pale skin was exposed in the gap between the material. He wondered what her skin felt like there, what it smelled and taste like and his cock throbbed. She watched him much like a predator sizing up its next meal and Clint was more than happy to offer himself up to her.

With the last button undone, the captain stepped just out of his reach and he caught a flash of something red beneath her dress. She leaned over him, her soft curls brushing over his skin as she made quick work of his clothing, pushing it out of the way. His chest and abdomen were exposed as well as his very prominent erection. He caught her eying it hungrily and felt a swell of pride within him.

“You are not to touch me until I say so, soldier,” she instructed, hitching her leg over his lap. 

“Yes, captain.”

The warmth of her skin against his own was almost too much for Clint to handle. He bit back a groan. Every inch of her from her perfectly made up face to the tea-colored silk stockings fastened by a red garter made him want her more than he had never wanted another woman. Her uniform had parted when she straddled him, revealing the red satin she wore beneath it to his gaze. Still keeping their bodies from being intimately pressed together, she leaned over until her lips were brushing the shell of his ear.

“And you are not to come until I say so. Is that understood, soldier?”

He swallowed hard. “Yes, captain.”

“Then let’s begin.”

The captain’s hand closed around the base of his cock, holding him still as she slowly eased herself onto it. She was unbelievably hot and slick inside, and he prayed that he would be able to hold out a little longer. Inch by inch, her clinging warmth enveloped him until she was fully seated, the backs of her thighs soft against his skin. A quiet sigh escaped her and she tilted her head back, eyes slipping closed as she seemed to revel in the sensation of their bodies meeting. He wanted so desperately to be in control, to set the pace, and fuck into her perfect body until they both were too weak to even scream, but he knew he couldn't until she gave the order.

Slowly and steadily, the captain worked herself on his cock. Her little whimpers and grunts made it difficult for Clint to hold back. His hands itched to feel her skin beneath them and learn the lines of her body. He could see the faint sheen of sweat that had spread over her forehead and the exposed curves of her breasts at the top of the bra. She rolled her hips, moaning loudly and tilting her head down to look at him.

“Do you like the feel of my cunt, soldier? The way it grips your cock every time I move? Does this feel good?” she asked in a breathy, low voice.

“Oh god yes, captain,” he panted, clinging to the arms of the chair.

He could sense her own urgency by the way she quickened her pace, riding him hard and fast. The chair groaned beneath them as she moved on top of him. He needed her to allow him to come, and the strain of holding back was quickly becoming too much for him. She drew circles with her hips, and he bit back the groan that rose in the back of his throat. Clint felt his resolve slip a little more with each move she made. Her lips were parted, no longer able to restrain her sounds of pleasure.

“Come for me,” she told him, sounding just as strung out and desperate as he was, “Right now.”

Clint’s response was strangled, only bearing a passing resemblance to what he should have said. She quickened her pace, pitching and rolling her hips with one hand planted firmly on his chest. He stared up in awe of the powerful woman who was in complete control of his body and his life, and he surrendered completely to her.

The rest was a blur in the myriad of sensations washing over him. His heart beat a mile a minute in his chest and the tightly coiled pressure that had built up inside of him had turned into a pleasant warmth. It spread throughout his body, making him feel relaxed despite being restrained. The captain gazed down at him with a beatific smile across her face. She was disheveled, fiery curls flared out around her shoulders and chest still heaving with each breath. A small bead of sweat traced a path from her throat down between her breasts and disappeared beneath the red satin of her bra.

“You’ve done very well, soldier,” she said, still breathless and grinning easily. 

“If you’re going to kill me, might as well do it now because I feel great,” he responded. 

What surprised him was that she did not pull a knife or any other kind of weapon, but released his bonds. She trailed one hand up his chest, letting her eyes follow the same path until they reached his face. “I think you’re going to be very useful to me, soldier,” she purred at him.

“Whatever you say, captain.”


End file.
